Pilsen: On the Pilsner Urquell beer trail

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There’s something about the damp, cool cellars underneath the Pilsner Urquell brewery that make you lose track of time. That’s my excuse, anyway. Why else would I be pouring myself a drink – my third – just before 11am? In my defence, it’s not like my tour guide, Michaela, is taken aback. “You are doing well,” she says, clutching her own glass of hazy-golden lager. “Are you looking for a job?”

No, I think, just another beer. After all, that’s what I’m here for. In the year that Pilsen is European Capital of Culture, I’m keen to experience its greatest contribution to world culture: golden lager, born here in 1842. To whet my appetite, I’ve contacted Evan Rail, ace beer writer and long-term Czech resident, to find out what to expect. “Czech beer culture is a world unto itself,” he tells me. “There’s a richness of beer-hall history and tradition unlike anything else I’ve found.”

A mouth-watering prospect. So when I arrive in Pilsen I head immediately for U Salzmannu, a large pub-cum-restaurant close to the city’s central square, Namesti Republiky. It’s the perfect place to start. Named after the man who first took Pilsner Urquell to Prague, thus sealing its place in history, it’s charmingly unaffected: the wood-panelled walls of the dining room are festooned with hops, a television in the corner shows snooker and the table to my left is occupied by a group of chuckling pensioners.

It’s perfect, but it’s about to get better. A waitress places a dumpy, fat-bottomed glass tankard of Pilsner Urquell Nefiltrovany Lezak – an unpasteurised, unfiltered version of this famous beer – in front of me. I’ve had it before, on a previous flying visit to Pilsen, but the experience is still a wonderful surprise. It’s soft and lightly carbonated, and the flavour is a beguiling, more-ish blend of caramel, biscuit and spicy bitterness. It’s delicious, and totally unlike most pale lagers you’ll find in Britain.

I could stay here all afternoon, but I’ve arranged to meet Filip Miller, an expat Australian who’s lived in the city for eight years and knows the beer scene inside out. He’s going to show me what beer culture there is in Pilsen beyond its famous golden lager.

We start at Francis Retro-Cafe, where, basking in the warmth of a wood-burning stove, I drink Beskydy Yellow Leaf, a tasty American pale ale made with hops from the United States. Next, it’s U Kance, where the Stara Skola 12 degrees (Czech beer is ranked by degrees Plato rather than alcohol by volume; 12 degrees is about five per cent ABV) is a little buttery for my liking – and finally U Kostela, a 15-minute walk from town, in a working-class district close to the Skoda factory.

We step through the front door into a fug of cigarette smoke; it’s still legal to puff away indoors here. That’s not the only blast from the past. A half-litre of Kout na Sumave’s 12-degree pale lager (a soft, delicate drop – like drinking a cloud – with a firm bitter finish) costs just 28 Crowns, or 80p. It’s remarkably cheap, but it reflects the local attitude towards beer that isn’t Pilsner Urquell, Filip tells me.

“Many locals are convinced that the mass-produced Urquell is the best,” he says. “Often it is sold at higher prices and usually it’s all that’s on offer at the posher places. Bars selling micro rather than macro-beers are often less swanky: places where punters go for a session. Which is fine by me!”

The gates of the Pilsner Urquell brewery Photo: Alamy

More and more of these places are opening, he tells me – and we’ve saved the best until last. It’s evening by the time we reconvene in Klub Malych Pivovaru (Small Breweries’ Club), a great place to try beers from the Czech Republic’s smaller breweries. It’s certainly not swanky: there are beer mats and football scarves (the home ground of Viktoria Pilsen is nearby) on the wall and one of the barmen is sporting a denim shirt and an extravagant mullet.

And then there’s the beer. I sample Kocour’s Samurai IPA, which combines the softness of Czech Pilsner with the hop punch of an American IPA, and Matuska’s Knir, a beautifully balanced polotmavy, or amber lager, that offers doughy malt and prickly hop character. There is clearly lots of good beer in Pilsen beyond Pilsner Urquell.

I haven’t sworn off the stuff, though. The next day I spend a delightful hour looking around the Brewery Museum (the highlight of which is a tiny, full-operational brewing kit) before lunch at U Parkanu, the restaurant attached to the museum. It’s packed – with locals as well as tourists – as I tuck into a pork-heavy Brewer’s Plate, washed down with more of that Nefiltrovany Lezak.

I’m keen to see one of Pilsen’s smaller breweries (there are four), so after lunch I head for Purkmistr, a brewpub based on the site of an old farmhouse in the south of the city, which opened in 2007. It has quickly become one of the most important microbreweries in the country; every year it hosts Slunce ve skle (Sun in the glass), a festival of small breweries that attracts thousands to this quiet suburb.

Pilsen's market square Photo: Alamy

I hurry to the main dining room, where a flight of Purkmistr’s beers await; there’s pale lager, of course, but also stout and wheat beer plus another flavoured – not to its advantage, in my view – with vanilla. Both the stout and the wheat beer are excellent, though, and it’s no surprise when Josef Krysl, Purkmistr’s brewmaster, tells me these beers are increasingly popular. “It’s down to the younger generation,” he says. “They’ve tasted beer in foreign countries and they’re looking for something different here in the Czech Republic.”

Change is in the air in Pilsen, perhaps – but I can’t see the locals ever forsaking Pilsner Urquell. Why would they? It might be mass-produced but in its unfiltered, unpasteurised form, it’s hard to resist.

It’s a point I can’t help reflecting on on my final morning in Pilsen, when I visit those cellars. They stretch for nine kilometres and were once used to condition the beer; they’re by some distance the highlight of a mildly diverting tour. By the time I emerge, three beers later, into the chilly Czech winter, I can’t help agreeing with Rail: this is a special place to drink beer.

Getting there

Four airlines (British Airways, Easyjet, Ryanair and Wizzair) fly from the UK to Prague, which is about an hour by road from Pilsen. From the airport, a taxi will cost 2700 Czech crowns (around £80). Alternatively, take bus no 100 to Praha-Zilcin from where Student Agency buses (studentagency.eu; 100 Czech crowns, or £2.90; journey time one hour) go to Pilsen. It’s best to book as often the buses are full. Rail – which requires a trip into Prague – is much slower. There is no railway or metro station at the airport.

To get to Purkmistr at Selska naves 21/2 (0 420 222 539 539; purkmistr.cz), take a Number 13 bus to suburb of Cernice. Not only is there beer on offer, but also a beer spa, where you can luxuriate in a bath of beer. A 20-minute session costs 690 CK, or £19.50.

It costs 90 CK (£2.50) to go around The Brewery Museum at Veleslavínova 6(00 420 377 235 574; prazdrojvisit.cz/en/brewery-museum), which offers an insight into how Pilsen became such a brewing centre.

English tours of the Pilsner Urquell brewery at U Prazdroje 7 (420 377 062 888; prazdrojvisit.cz/en) take place at 12.45pm, 2.15pm and 4.15pm. The adult price is 199 Czech Crowns, or £5.60.

Where to stay

Hotel Rous at Zbrojnická 113/7 (00 420 377 320260; hotelrous.cz) is a 30-second walk from Republic Square. Doubles from £60 a night, including a buffet breakfast.

Pilsen’s Courtyard by Marriot at sady 5. května 57 (00 420 373 370100; marriott.co.uk) boasts a fitness centre and can be found on the eastern edge of the city centre. Doubles from £50.